


The National Calendar Affair.

by malfoible



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:46:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malfoible/pseuds/malfoible





	The National Calendar Affair.

Napoleon unlocked the door and pushed it open.

He entered as though he was breaking in but it was actually his own apartment, the last few days had taught him to expect the unexpected.  
What surprise would Illya have for him today?

Two weeks ago Illya had been knocked out during a mission and the doctor had diagnosed concussion.  
Waverley, despite the Russians protest had ordered rest and recuperation.  
Illya did not rest well, relaxation seemed to be an anathema to him.  
Solo had managed, with a mixture of threats and cajolery to keep him in bed for two days but when he returned to work Illya was on his own.

He had promised Solo that he wouldn’t leave the apartment and Solo had been quite pleased when he had rung home to find out how Illya was doing and Illya had told him he was rearranging their closet. How much harm could he get into doing that?

Solo had found out two days later when he had brought Waverley home with him to check on the invalid. 

Illya had gathered Waverley into his arms and hugged him.

“Thank you Cowboy I didn’t know how I was going to manage today as I couldn’t go out.”

Napoleon didn’t know who was more surprised, himself or Waverley. 

The elder man patted Illya on the shoulder.

“Pleased you’re feeling better Mr. Kuryakin.”

“Illya, what’s going on?”

“I found this at the bottom of the closet, look.”

He handed over a large calendar that one of the girls in the office had bought for Napoleon as a joke.

“See, today is Give Your Boss a Hug day.”

Waverley laughed and turned to leave, saying.  
“I’ll leave you to explain Mr. Solo.”

Solo had explained or tried to, that most of the national days were just for fun but as Illya seemed to be interested and it seemed harmless, he relaxed.

The next few days had been challenging to say the least.  
They had celebrated… chicken month, cheese pizza day, read a book day, chocolate milk day.  
Make a hat day, apple dumpling day…to be honest Solo hadn’t minded the food ones too much.  
Illya had turned out to be a surprisingly good cook.  
Luckily they had missed out on national square dance day and rollercoaster day since Illya could not leave the house.

He imagined his partner having them written down somewhere for next year. 

Solo sighed, he wished he had looked at the damned calendar before he had left for work this morning.

Noises came from the bedroom. Grunts and thuds, He pushed open the door.

Illya was wresting an enormous mattress onto their bed well…no not their bed…a large wooden bed…

“Illya?”

The Russian turned frowning.  
“No Cowboy not yet, I’m not ready, I wanted to have everything finished before you came home.”

“What…what the hell…Illya?”

“National Make Your Bed Day…I made a bed.”

Napoleon laughed then shook his head.  
“Make your bed…means tidy….not build….”  
He stopped talking, the bed was really quite impressive.  
“You made this? It’s beautiful…and posts, it has bedposts…”

“I had it delivered then I built it. Does that count?” he looked at Solo looking at the bed…looking at the bedposts….  
“I thought you would like those.”

Solo grinned at his partner. “Well they may come in handy…sometime…”

“Now.”

“No Peril, you’re meant to be taking it easy.”

“Now.” He brushed his lips over Solos taking his time using his tongue to open his mouth.  
Deepening the kiss pulling Solo nearer the bed.  
He loosened Solos tie and wrapped one end round his right wrist.  
He opened Solos belt and ripped it off him, holding his arm out, he lay back on the bed.

Napoleon, not able to resist, slipped out of his clothes and joined his partner on the bed.  
He undressed Illya slowly, kissing and laving each inch of flesh as he uncovered it.  
Teasing and tickling, long strokes and soft nibbles.  
He returned time and again to Illyas mouth.  
He loved Illya, the feel of his skin. The scent of him. The taste of him.  
He had been careful the past two weeks but he had missed the closeness.

Illyas eyes were black with want…he handed Solo his belt and put his hands up towards the bedposts.

“Now.”

“ That's my Peril always topping from the bottom.”


End file.
